


This man is worth my tears

by colourfulathletesdream



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:07:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colourfulathletesdream/pseuds/colourfulathletesdream
Summary: Arthur is injured by bandits as he and Merlin travel alone through the forest. Will he survive? Will his relationship with Merlin?
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	This man is worth my tears

The morning sunlight creeping through the thick forest canopy glinted off Arthur’s sword and caught patches of his pale blond hair, making it look almost white from where Merlin crouched. He turned and lunged forward, thrusting his sword towards the larger of the two bandits, a bear-like man with an unkempt beard. The bandit, who only carried a small dagger he had been hoping to use to slit Arthur’s throat while he slept, leapt backwards and cursed loudly. 

“Watch out!”, Merlin yelled, causing Arthur to jerk his right arm backwards. There was a crack as his elbow connected with the second bandit’s nose and blood appeared instantly. The second bandit, a small, ugly man who wore a rich purple tunic too big for him that he must have stripped from a noble’s body, yelled out and stumbled backwards, clutching his broken nose. 

Merlin, still with sleep in the corners of his eyes, watched Arthur step forward and jerk his sword into the bandit’s stomach. Arthur ripped it upwards, the bandit’s mouth opening in a gargled scream, before he crumpled around the blade that Arthur yanked from amidst his organs. Light on his feet, not showing that he’d been peacefully asleep next to Merlin only minutes earlier, Arthur turned just as the larger bandit jabbed at him with the dagger. The cruel blade slid easily through Arthur’s crimson tunic and pierced the skin just below his collarbone. 

Merlin, seeing the danger just a second too late, rushed forward, eyes blazing. The bandit was blasted backwards and crumpled against a tree trunk, his neck snapping as he made impact. Arthur half turned towards Merlin, his eyes glazed over. “That was lucky”, he said, before crumpling into Merlin’s arms. 

*** 

It was now nearly dark. The firelight flickered, casting terrible shadows on the oppressive trees. Merlin felt like he was drowning. Arthur still hadn’t opened his eyes and his breathing was shallow and laboured. His tunic was soaked with blood that had seeped through the crude bandages Merlin had pressed over the wound. They were travelling alone and light through the forest of Ascitir on a whim of Arthur’s. Merlin didn’t have a proper medical bag with him and even if he had it wouldn’t have been much use. Gaius has always criticised Merlin’s lack of interest in his profession, and now Merlin cursed himself for not paying more attention. 

Merlin had forced himself to pull the dagger from Arthur’s chest, feeling the slightly jagged edge of the blade grating on Arthur’s collarbone as he did so, and used it to cut up the smaller bandit’s tunic. He wrapped the makeshift bandages over Arthur’s wound after packing it with a poultice he vaguely remembered seeing Gaius use to prevent infection. His hands shaking, he’d gently leant over Arthur and put slight pressure on the wound. Hours had passed with Merlin trying desperately to keep Arthur with him until the pressing gloom of dusk forced him from Arthur’s side to set a fire. 

The light from the flames illuminated Arthur’s pale, dirty face. Merlin gently rubbed off a little streak of dirt on Arthur’s cheek while desperately thinking over his healing spells. Everything he’d tried so far hadn’t worked and Arthur was slipping from him. Little beads of sweat formed on Merlin’s forehead as again he tried a healing spell; his blue eyes briefly burned like the strongest gold in all of Albion, but Arthur remained prone in his arms. He looked almost as if he were sleeping, but his neck muscles were pulled tight as he struggled to breathe. Scrunching his eyes up as he tried to stop himself crying, Merlin ran his fingertips over Arthur’s cheekbones before stroking his thumb over Arthur’s slightly parted lips. ‘This man is worth my tears’ he thought as a single tear trickled down his nose and dropped onto Arthur’s cheek. 

The small drop glowed iridescent like molten silver as it ran down Arthur’s gaunt, dirty cheek and trickled over his chapped lips into his slightly open mouth. The young warlock, who some called magic itself, continued crying as he cradled the once and future king in his arms until exhaustion overcame him and he fell asleep. 

*** 

The next morning, Merlin awoke and pushed a lock of his dark hair away from his forehead, almost hoping the events of yesterday has just been a terrible dream. He’d slumped over Arthur’s body in his sleep so the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Arthur’s crimson tunic. Around his wound it was stained darker with blood and where it tapered into a v in the little hollow at the base of his neck it was slightly damp with sweat. Arthur’s adam apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed and said “honestly Merlin, can you be a bit more gentle next time you sleep on me, you’re heavy”.

“You’re alive!” Merlin’s joyous exclamations were cut off as Arthur propped himself up on one arm, pulled Merlin close and kissed him. Arthur tasted like honey and salt. His lips were slightly chapped but felt very soft, almost perfect. 

“You saved my life Merlin”, said Arthur as Merlin jerked his head back in shock. “The last thing I remember seeing was your face and I thought I’d die with you never knowing how I feel about you.”

“But…”

Merlin’s protestations were again halted abruptly. Arthur tangled his hand in Merlin’s hair and kissed him again. His lips parted slightly as he almost sighed into the kiss. Merlin had never felt more pliable in Arthur’s hands. He propped himself over Arthur, supporting himself with one hand and using the other to trace down Arthur’s muscular chest. He’d wanted to do this for so long. All those nights he’d spent watching Arthur sleep on the other side of a campfire; every time Arthur would smile at him after Merlin has finished helping him in to his armour, a genuine grin too, not a forced smile he practiced for boring courtiers and Uther’s yes men; all those jokes and hunting trips and pranks and long nights alone in his little bedroom off Gaius’ room, where he had to be careful to be quiet. 

Arthur, looking relativised and not at all like someone who’d been on the brink of death for over 12 hours, sat up and pulled Merlin into his lap, simultaneously peeling off his dirty tunic. The purple bandages covered a neatly healed wound, seemingly Merlin’s spells or tears had done the trick. Merlin’s eyes however, were drawn to the light hairs that ran from Arthur’s belly button under his trousers. His hand tentatively moved down between Arthur’s legs and Arthur responded by biting Merlin’s lip and groaning. Merlin responded to Arthur’s bites by moving his hand more firmly, feeling Arthur’s chest heaving and his breathing becoming more gaspy. He smiled into the kiss – he was going to enjoy this.


End file.
